We had to resist the temptation to title this page "Ye olde corset
shoppe" or something similarly nostalgic, but quite inappropriate.

The characters in the cartoon are amazingly reminiscent of those
stalwarts from the British comedy series "Are you
being served?",
and everybody from the matronly Mrs. Slocombe to the rather dotty Miss
Brahms is represented.

The incredibly clever Dutch
cartoonist, Jan Sanders, captures the ambience of the traditional corset
shop in this cartoon (left). Note that not all the serving staff are
female. Note the stacks of boxes with different sizes and styles of
garment. This is the classic emporium of the two post-War decades, where
a thousand variations on what is 'after all' quite a simple theme would
be
on offer, on the counter and for sale.

A lady could spend an afternoon struggling in
and out of a dozen pairs of corsets, encouraged, chided and 'brought back
down to earth' by her close friends, the corsetiere herself, or her
daughter; the latter secure in the knowledge that her turn was next. (Dhr.
Sanders was undoubted aware of the many excellent corset shops in Holland
at the time. Sadly, few remain).

The cartoon and the picture
on the right (from Germany in the 1950's), show a feature that existed
for hundreds of years, and yet oddly is unknown in today's liberated
society. The corset shop has a male attendant. Of course, only a
female member of staff would be allowed 'behind the curtains.'

In the full cartoon, a group of sailors have just
bought some "frillies" for their girlfriends and are laughing at
the poor old Chief selecting something 'appropriate' for his - obviously -
well-built wife.

That's what we like to see; lot's of
corsets, lots of variety, satins and brocades, everything required to keep the
burgeoning Hausfrau under control.

Flapper era, Art Deco and from France on the right, three
ladies apparently cavorting around the woods in their satin-panelled corselettes.
It is, of course a reflection! Why do models and even mannequins stand in that
contrived concave fashion when wearing these corselettes. Is it that the
corselettes are designed for shorter figures?

My husband
and I are firm supporters of the 'crowded shop' and the museum that
fills its rooms full of fascinating objects. The modern museum, with
its acres of space designed to show off a few expensive trinkets,
bores us and makes us wonder "why bother?"

The Victorian corset shops above
left no space vacant. Every nook and cranny was filled with their wares. Even
Roussel's emporium (1930 - below) has a reasonable foundation-to-area ratio;
however, the Smart-form shop
below in the mid-1930's displays but six garments in a massive 600 square feet.
The emptiness inside would hardly seem likely to attract a prospective customer. But
Smart-form, which was none other than the very up-market Barcley,
sought a wealthier, supposedly more discerning clientele.

Another attempt at a corsetry display from a major department
store in 1944 (below) looks more like the window dresser has gone off for coffee
half way through her job! Staying on the western side of the Atlantic, the
saleslady below (1944) demonstrates how one can transform one's bosom into the
'bullet' shaped cones that, presumably, rose in response to the ongoing war. The
war featured strongly in corsetry
advertising.

This is what we like to see. Plenty of garments on display, a
smiling and helpful lady, ready to give advice, and the line which we all fall
for "I've just got in something special that I think would really suit you.
It's slightly more than you wanted to spend." Spirella's showroom (above
right - 1930) and their London shop (below left - 1952)
are excellent examples of the upper end of the market. Berlei and Sarongster
feature in the scene from Australia in the late 1950's (below). No doubt the shelves on
the right would have contained garments from Australia's other major brands, such
as Jenyns.

From the 1960's, a Lancashire corset
shop. These were the
hey-days of corsetry; however, the chipped paint on the skirting of the shop
front indicates that profit margins were never huge in this trade, certainly not
in the provincial towns and cities. A cause for hope amongst us traditionalists
is the corset shop in the middle. This photo was taken recently in Spain, one of
the last bastions of traditional Triumph corsetry.
On the right, we have a throwback to the 1960's. We shall not see these times
again!

I know women who were terrified to visit the 'corset shop' and others who
looked on its very much like a trip to the hairdresser. A pleasant, fairly
mindless afternoon, quintessentially female, and secure in the knowledge that
the end result would be an improved version of the person that entered the
premises. The women that were scared probably had had encounters with the rare,
but sadly real, 'dragon' of a fitter. "Ah, Modom will require the formidable
corset section, I presume", or to quote the old music hall joke:- Timid
overweight customer "I'd like to see some corsets that would fit me please."
Rude assistant "So would I Madam; so would I!" Sometimes, indeed, I
thought these shops should label their corsetry sections, 'formidable corsets',
'corsets for normal women', and 'girdles for nice girls'. A old acquaintance
recounts an episode in Shinners of Sutton where her substantially constructed
companion had vanished into a cubicle to try on a specially ordered corset. She
heard the woman call the fitter and explain that she didn't expect so many
straps and things. The fitter announced that with her figure, the more straps
the better. There followed what sounded like a scuffle, but turned out to be the
combined efforts of client and fitter to adjust the garment. Some time later
both women emerged from the cubicle, red-faced and angry. In the street outside
the large lady exclaimed "What a dreadful woman! I really don't think I'm going
to get on with this contraption!" Her friend cautioned her to be patient and let
the corset settle down for a week, and added, with an economy of truth, "It
really helps your figure." "Don't you start" the other retorted "Do you really
think so?" Such is vanity and the corset shop.

We cannot leave this section without mentioning that
fictional corsetry department of Grace Brothers that featured in the
1970's - 80's comedy 'Are you being served?' I'm sure in the
paragraph above, the 'dragon of a fitter' must remind all of us of a certain
age of the indomitable Mrs Slocombe and her scatty, although street-wise
assistant Miss Brahms (left). Mollie Sugden and Wendy Richard had these
characters off to a tee. Sadly, both passed away within a few months of each
other in 2009 despite Mollie being 20 years older than Wendy. Like their
corsets, we will not see their like again. Or will we? Ellie V. in 2014
plays the part of the long-suffering salesgirl as she clutches a bundle of
corsets for another customer.

Here are another two photographs that tell a tale. On the left
is a German street market in the 1950's. The brassiere with the three strap
fastening at the back dates it nicely. On the right is an American shop, but
doesn't it just give away an air of faded glory. The permanent SALE sign, the
missing flourescent tube. Profit margins would have been close to zero and it is
not just the old advertisements that reveal the 'writing on the wall'.

But let us move into the hallowed sanctum of the fitting room. How
many husbands have stood on the edges of the 'forbidden area' in the department
store. Slightly flushed, slightly embarrassed, probably bored but with the
nervous anticipation of footing what he suspects (correctly) will be a rather
large bill. Silly man, he should be anticipating his wife, rejuvenated in both
confidence and figure!

I think everything is here to persuade the most recalcitrant
of torsos into that special dress for the wedding. Hundreds of yards of lacing,
innumerable buckles and straps, under-belts, spiral bones, double bones, rigid
bones of alloy and steel. Brocades, satins, shiny (and rather noisy) nylons adorn both the
foundations and the dresses. A mistake in the combination of these materials
could generate enough electricity to draw sparks from the wearer's rayon gloves!

To
the uninitiated, the corset shop
all too often conjured up a vision of unyielding
strong satin, rows of hooks and eyes, yards of lacing, and bones, bones, and
more bones!

(paraphrased from the Spirella Magazine January
1958.)

Brassieres of all lengths, corselettes, girdles,
panty-girdles and corsets. All are represented together with the more risqué
sounding basques, waspies and waist nippers.

Everything can be adjusted from the heaviest of
surgical corsets for granny, Jenyns' best flattening devices for mother, laced
brassieres for matrons who can go without breath or food for an entire day, and
imaginatively complicated panty-girdles for the bride, whose will-power between
the first and last appointments has left her a size beyond her prime.

Spirella*,
Spencer, Barcley,
Jenyns and Camp*, all feature here - but sadly, they feature no
longer in any shop that exists today. Most women will say "Thank Goodness," but
some will miss the flattening and flattering persuasion of such archaeic
devices.

* Actually, Basko-CAMP
is still sold in Holland and Germany, however, the drab
coutil garments are so utterly unfeminine. Spirella has been re-awakened in
Sweden, but once again, their products are
somewhat utilitarian.

Whatever happened to Whalonia, Freeman,
Trueform, OTC and Avro. Camp is still with us (just). The box above tells
its own story. It is very old and therefore contains an unfashionable
garment. Perhaps this would not be a concern to the sort of aged client who
might wear one, however, the unlikely size (50 inches) and the reductions in
price tell of a declining interest. The word 'under-belt' is written on the
box, for nobody in the shop remembers what model 4521 means anymore!

This is a scene from a bygone era. All the foundation
garments came in these packets of similar size. They could contain anything
and everything from a panty-girdle for one's daughter to a formidably-boned
corset for granny, complete with under-belt, lacing and buckles. There were
so many boxes because women tend to come in so many different sizes!

What happened to these boxes? Many were thrown away, sometimes after long
use as a receptacle
for something completely unconnected with corsetry.

Lastly, a sad reminder of present times. The shop below is
one of the few remaining traditional corset shops in Britain. The shop is
closed, although it is 2 pm on a normal working day. A closer inspection reveals
that the proprietress only opens about 15 hours a week. This is not surprising;
the lady has run the shop for decades and is well into her 80's. The window
displays some relics of a former era and a corset that seems to have been returned,
modified, and then failed to find a buyer. There is a good satin girdle on
display;
however, the general appearance of something better than neglect, but less than
faded elegance, pervades the scene. The shop could easily be mistaken for a
Charity Shop (Thrift shop in the USA). The badges of former pillars of corsetry,
Camp and Spirella, proclaim wares that haven't been sold for years. Oddly
enough, Triumph, the name on the door, still holds a firm foundation on
continental Europe.

The Camp sign is decades old, since the style was modified long after the shop
had ceased connection with this company. The shelves, however, still hold relics
from this company in the unusual and thus unsold sizes. Lumbosacral* and
dorsolumbar supports could be found, but the proprietress had forgotten what they
were supposed to do. Fiendishly complex maternity devices were shunned by modern
women who felt that pregnancy was uncomfortable enough without having to wear a
straight-jacket!

The
Spirella sign, again, a throwback to an era long-gone, would never have been
placed in a shop window in the 60's or 70's. The High Street retailer and the
bespoke businesses were keen rivals. The proprietress was simply trying to
advertise every possible foundation garment to her diminishing clientele. The piles of
unboxed corsets hint of damp in the store-room and a consequent unappealing deterioration of
the boxes; the corsets themselves survived. Allusions to proud weddings of the
past (but not the present) tell a sad tale: for the whole shop is nothing more than a fading reminder
of something that has passed away.

Indeed, what with the resurgence
in 'shapewear', the modern corset emporium, whilst lacking the innate
feminine charm of yesterday, at least s making some effort. Sadly, style has
being discarded along the way.

From Seoul in South Korea (left)
comes this amazing display from an underground station in the city.
Personally, I prefer to select my under-pinnings in a less public
environment!

Until recently, the few remaining 'corset shops' has become brassiere
emporiums. The word was a throw-back to a bygone era.

Yet another 'sea of bras' (left).
At least this market stall in France still has some proper foundations.

Examples (above) from Portugal and South America, once again demonstrate the
Latin demand for a feminine shape. This movement spread to the Far East as
Japanese and Korean women discovered the power of Spandex and now, after a
absence of several decades, girdles (even if they are called shapers) have
returned to the shelves of the European high street.

Massachusetts 2005

A reader sent in this photograph from a Massachusetts corset shop. I love the
rows of boxes and the slightly chaotic assemblage of articles.

New Zealand 2005

This is a photo of Maree, the owner, and Robin, her assistant, at the "Maree
Louise Corsetry" shop in Papakura, near to Auckland, New Zealand. Notice a
strange similarity to the ladies at the Coja corset shop
in Rijswijk, Holland.